Follow My Yellow Light
by Aloneall
Summary: Prequel to the series, detailing Haymitch and Effie's first meeting in the Second Quarter Quell. Before Effie was an escort, she was an apprentice, and Haymitch was her golden opportunity.
1. Chapter 1

"Haymitch Abernathy!" The enthusiastic, pink lady on stage finally exclaimed, after unraveling the tiny scrap of paper, which took extreme focus and concentration on account of her shaking hands.

As the name echoed, a young man stood tall, shoulders broad as he gave a glance to someone, perhaps a little brother, a mother, a girl. His hair was rather long, but masculine and ruggedly handsome. He was a typical District Twelve seventeen year old, ready to get down to the mines soon and work for his food - though he knew now that he would never work down there, for in a short fortnight, he'd be running into the bloodbath of the arena. As the final of the four tributes reached the stage, somber claps filled the air. The peaceful requiem sung by the hands of the district's citizens marred by one sound; someone clapping quickly.

The only person in the audience who struggled to hold back her grin and enthusiasm was Effie Trinket. As the sixteen year old daughter of a Capitol escort, aspiring to be one herself soon, watching for experience and to aid her mother, Effie couldn't be any more excited for a special Quarter Quell. She wore a spectacular updo without the aid of wigs, and her face was painted white, orange lips contrasting the coal dust. She was, that day, the brightest thing in the District, visually, but terribly naive.

Around an hour later, young Effie was scribbling away at her notepad, with her golden pen, watching her mother give the tributes a tour around the train. She'd been told by her mother that this bunch of tributes was kinder than it could have been, though Haymitch seemed particularly difficult. As a result, Effie kept a close eye on the young man before her, who would have been far taller than her if it weren't for her clattering heels.

Valira Trinket ushered her tributes to the dining table, assuring that dinner would be ready soon. She left the room quickly, and Effie covered up her mother's coughing and spluttering by muttering on about the beauty of this room.

"Hey, Princess, how 'bout you just shut it?" Haymitch asked gruffly, not even bothering to make eye contact with her. He was much too preoccupied with spinning a knife between his fingers and staring at the frail 12 year old boy who'd unfortunately been selected first. That tribute didn't stand a chance, he'd scarcely make it to the arena. Effie crossed him off the list she'd made in her notebook before glaring at Haymitch.

"With manners like that, you won't be getting any sponsors." She answered, pursing her tangerine lips and sitting at the head of the table. A strange pink liquid in a slim glass balanced between her white fingertips, before she brought it to her lips, swallowing it. She tutted at how awful it tasted, pouring it away. She looked around for a drink more lavish and expensive, wasting hers for being inadequate. For this, she earned glares from the tributes, aside from the crying young boy; wasting anything was incomprehensible to them.

"'Might wanna borrow your knife sometime." Maysilee Donner, an athletic blonde, half-joked quietly to Haymitch, trying to lighten the mood. The blond responded with a smirk, twirling the butterknife rather skilfully.

Effie didn't take the comment seriously, she knew how susceptible escorts were to threats, but what use would shooting the messenger be? She simply watched the knife, already trying to decide on her favourite to coach. She had no time for all four.

Haymitch sat through the quiet meal, unphased by the tangibly uncomfortable atmosphere and took advantage of eating as much as he could, as messily as he could, if only to annoy the escort's daughter. He only knew who she was because she'd made a sort of announcement a few minutes previous, something about how she was "here to assist", before she had to rush off to her mother's room, like a servant.

He didn't have the spare time to find this at all curious, he was counting the days to his death, or the days to when he would transform into a monster on account of cold-blooded survival killing. At this thought, he pushed the last of his food away and shoved himself out of his chair, walking to the bedroom assigned to him by Valira.

Haymitch's rough hands found his eyes, letting out a sigh and rubbing them. He wanted to be with his brother, making sure he was fed tonight. He wanted to tell his mother not to worry about him. He wanted to tell his girl he loved her. Thanks to the Capitol, he was here. He was a pig for slaughter, to quench their bloodthirst and feed their hunger for entertainment.

Haymitch laid down in the plush bed, unnervingly comfortable. Comfort was home, with family and friends. This was artificial comfort. So artificial, in fact, that he couldn't use the word "comfortable" for anything here. Sleep wasn't about to come easy, so he stared at the wall, mind completely blank.

After goodness knows how long, a soft knock came at the door, and Effie entered, holding some black pants and a white nightshirt. "We should be in the Capitol tomorrow evening. Get a good sleep, you'll need it." She chirped, placing the clothes, neatly folded on his bed.

Haymitch didn't acknowledge her at all, which she didn't care about for the time being. She didn't need to waste her energy focusing on a difficult district kid until it actually counted. She would find her favourite soon. Snapping from her thoughts, she walked out noticeably quickly, clip-clopping down the hall to her mother once again.


	2. Chapter 2

Valira's cabin in the train - if it could be called so, it was practically a palace: gilded doorknobs, golden bedposts and velvet curtains - was sickeningly hot. Effie pressed a cold cloth to her mother's head as blood soaked the tissue she pressed to her lips. When Valira pulled it away and shoved Effie's arm off, sitting up with the help of her daughter, her dry lips were stained with flecks of blood.

"Do you need anything?" Effie asked the lethargic woman as she cleaned the blood from her lips and disposed of anything even close to contamination. "You could see the doctor here, maybe he can help..." She croaked, her voice stripped of enthusiastic chirps, it was honest and broken.

"They'll only tell me the same thing. Frankly, I don't want to hear it. They're wrong. This is certainly my last Quell, but it's not my last Games." Valira responded gruffly, sipping some water and sighing heavily. Whatever was wrong with the woman was terminal, incurable. She was grinding slowly towards her demise, the only thing keeping her on her feet was her determination to see another Hunger Games. "Effie, dear, put me to sleep then see to the tributes, would you?"

Effie nodded, taking a syringe from a briefcase beside the bed. She did what the doctors had taught her and sterilised her mother's neck, before jamming the metal into it and pressing down on the plunger. She didn't let her hands shake, though it hurt her inside to do this. She hated it, watching her mother go limp in a matter of seconds and wondering if she'd ever wake again. Effie pulled away and sat on what could only be described as a throne on the other end of the cabin, head in her hands, suppressing her sobs.

Upon leaving a minute or so later, she walked right into a brawny chest, hissing at the tribute to distance himself from the door and slamming it behind her. "Get away from there! How dare you eavesdrop!" She scolded, grabbing Haymitch's shoulders and trying to push him away.

Overcome by a rush of sympathy for Effie - he'd watched his father die slowly, though it was no where near as agonising - Haymitch didn't shove her away, he took her hands gently, removing them from his shoulders. "Hey, I didn't mean to! Would you get a hold of yourself?" He hissed, though with less venom that usual. He wasn't melting for her, he almost felt as though Valira deserved what was happening to her, but he could be less of a brute for this reason, he supposed. "Anyway, it's pretty damn obvious that your mom's dying." He said, shaking his head and walking toward the back of the train.

"She's not dying!" Said Effie, delicate fingertips scrunched up into a laughable attempt at fists. She stood stiff, shaking with anger. Like everything else, she took a breath and let her emotions still. "Where are you going?" She reprimanded unintentionally. Of course, she didn't care, unless he was off to deface some valuable part of the train. Stomping after him, the short girl caught up as he sat himself down on a couch, unceremoniously swinging his feet to sit there too so he could lie down and dirty the whole thing.

"She's coughing blood, of course she's dying." Haymitch sighed, rolling his eyes at her naivety. "She's doing a pretty good job of hiding it in the public eye. The parents of the kids you've killed would have a field day with that." He said harshly, sighing when he felt no pleasure from hurting her. He'd be just as bad as the Capitol if that was how he found his fun.

"I don't kill them." Effie whispered, never having been able to have a real conversation with a tribute before now. "It reminds us of what we've-"

"Don't give me that bullshit, sweetheart. I don't wanna hear it. Now, why are you still here? That's not me telling you to go away, it's a question." Haymitch said, not wanting to admit that he'd always wondered what made Snow's sadistic escorts tick.

"I'm keeping an eye on you." Effie said, lips pursed. Her skirt stuck out uncomfortably as she perched herself on a dark mahogany chair, running her long nails along the varnished arms with a feather-light touch.

Haymitch replied by raising his eyebrow. "You think I'd do something to upset you and your prissy Capitol friends now? They're my only chance of survival now, sadly. You don't need to watch me, sweetheart. I'm no cause for concern." He smirked, watching her squirm.

"You like your pet names, don't you, Haymitch?" Effie drawled, picking at her nails and trying to remain calm. She was a little surprised at how well spoken he was for someone so... District. Although he didn't have a proper accent, he wasn't churning out curses and slang at her every second, though she had shuddered a little when he'd used coarse language toward her.

"'Guess I do, sweetheart." He shrugged, face turning somber. His brief time of picking fun at her was over, intrusive thoughts of his family breaking into his mind; his mother losing her grip on sanity, his little brother scared and starving, his girl crying and screaming. Effie was quick to notice his sudden change and stood.

"I recommend that you sleep." She said, ready for a harsh rebuttal. Effie relaxed her muscles, unclenching her fists and sighing. "You could win this, you know? You have charisma, this whole rugged-handsome look... It could be appealing to some. You're strong. If you want to see them again, I suggest you listen to me. I'll be the one deciding who gets the sponsors." The trainee escort chirped, leaving the room with a very quick stride, heels clicking as the train fell through the fields, pushing Haymitch closer to his possible demise.


	3. Chapter 3

Upon arriving in the Capitol, the small boy and the brunette girl had their faces pressed to the window, looking excitedly at the beautiful architecture. Effie smiled at them, taking a step towards and placing her hands on their shoulders. "Breathe it all in, children." She said, smiling.

Haymitch stood behind, arms folded, Maysilee beside him. "She's a piece of work." The blonde smirked, to which Haymitch almost replied. He decided not to, settling for a chuckle and watching the city in disgust.

Valira lead them off of the train, taking them to the lavish tribute centre. Haymitch was surprised at how able the woman was, considering how he'd seen her previously. He decided to save his comments to taunt the escort. As the day went on, he'd definitely need some entertainment, even at her expense.

His room in the tribute centre was modern, clean and larger than his entire house back home. The window looked out across the lights of the city. Haymitch stormed toward it, yanking the blind down forcefully, hiding that awful place. He thought about what else he could possibly break in this room, before he was rudely interrupted by the escort.

"Before you say anything else, if you dare so much as breathe a word about my mother's condition, you won't see that arena." Effie warned, stepping toward him, filled with rage, grabbing his shoulders pathetically. Realising she could never fulfil that empty threat, Effie scrunched her eyes shut, gritted her teeth and braced herself for impact.

Haymitch simply laughed darkly, smirking and tilting his head. "Sweetheart, what do you take me for? I'm hardly gonna waste that information on Maysilee. I'm saving it for when I need it." He smirked, peeling her hands off of his shoulders with care. "Maybe I'll tell everyone in my interviews, maybe I'll tell them in the arena-" He began before Effie glared daggers sharper than ever before.

"Snow will kill you." She hissed through gritted teeth. "I told you, you could make it out of this. You could see them again, you have a chance. Just listen to me, do as I say, don't anger the Capitol." Effie said, a hint of fear in her voice. She shouldn't have been saying that. She sat down on his bed, head in her hands. "The others are hopeless. Erick is practically dying already, Greta is far too empathetic. It's between you and Maysilee." She murmured, showing him her list in the notebook she always carried, covered with scribbles and notes.

Haymitch frowned. Winning would mean letting Maysilee die. Winning would mean alliances, only to end in the death of one party at least. He closed his mouth tightly. "Get out." He said calmly, sitting against the headboard of his bed. "Get out, now."

Effie did as he said daintily, crossing one last name off of her list and making her way to her room in order to prepare for the tribute parade.


	4. Chapter 4

With no victor to aid them, Effie brushed a very tense Haymitch's shoulders, in a state of total panic herself. This was her first Games, this could be the making of her, as long as none of these tributes ruined it for her. The stylists had once again dressed them like miners, in as provocative fashion as ever for the older tributes. Effie hated it, it was tasteless and she could have done a better job herself, frankly. But she was always one to make the best of a bad situation.

"Right, big smiles. Haymitch, please take advantage of how muscular you look. As strong as you can, boys," Effie sighed, lowering her voice to a murmur for the next part and avoiding eye contact, "District 12 tributes are sitting ducks for every other tribute anyway, you have nothing to lose." She added, uncharacteristically cynical, earning a smirk from Haymitch and almost a sob from little Erick.

"Erick don't you dare cry, I'm not having your makeup done again!" She snapped harshly. Effie was definitely having a bad day, it was stressful enough having to ready the tributes for their parade, but even more so without Valira.

"Where's our escort?" Maysilee asked, stepping into her chariot with Haymitch.

"She's... Occupied." Said Effie, flashing a false grin. "Now, smile, wave and look pretty." She managed, before leaving as hastily as possible, getting to her seat and watching, hoping the parade would be over fast. She'd expected this time to be exciting, but it was not one bit. Effie was constantly filled with anxiety over how her mother was at that moment, and how she'd get a tribute far enough to be seen as a success.

District 12 were ignored once again, early bets giving Haymitch the best odds out of the four, but terrible odds at that. She may as well have started writing a eulogy for them now - but she couldn't let her mother down like that. That night, Effie walked up to the roof, where Haymitch stood, hands on the bars, knuckles white with fury.

The air was still and humid, and the sky red with a violent sunset. "You were passable today." Effie said, not one to lie about room for improvement. She stood straight, fingers clasped around her notebook.

Haymitch lifted his head from the hunched position over the bars. He was about to "princess" her, but he decided against it. "So, how do I win this thing? What do I gotta appeal to?" He sighed, pulling back and crossing his arms, looking at her.

A sudden surge of excitement shot through Effie. She had something to work with, finally. "We'll begin with the hair, I don't like what they've done to it. You're not a pristine Capitol boy, we have to make this District Twelve thing work." She said, sighing and messing up his hair with her fingers. "In training, I want you to abuse the strength you've gained from your District. You know how to starve, it's an advantage, and you're strong. But emotionally, I want you to shut yourself out. Everybody in there wants you dead. No remorse." Effie warned, speaking the last part darkly and pulling away from him.

Haymitch couldn't possibly do that. If it came to it, he wouldn't kill anyone from his district because they'd call him a monster back home. He simply nodded. She was right, he was strong. Emotionally, too. Haymitch had been through a lot. He'd watched his drunk father beat his mother, before the selfish man left them with nothing following his death. As a result, he'd vowed to his little brother that he'd never turn into such a man, but he had no control over what the Arena would do to him. The blond sighed and turned to leave. "Fine. I'll do it." He said gently.

"Thank you, Haymitch." Effie replied. "Bright and early tomorrow. I want you training harder than anyone else." She said, biting her lip and realising she'd made the right choice. He could be her victor. He could be her ticket.


	5. Chapter 5

""No, Haymitch. Back straight." Effie snapped one evening as she stood in her tribute's room, coaching him.  
Haymitch shot the escort a glare and pulled himself from his slouched position. "I know how to sit, you don't need to coach me to sit. What, you think if I sit wrong I'll get stabbed in the bloodbath?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

Effie rolled her eyes and groaned. "No, but it's important you look good, for sponsors." She said, carding her fingers through his hair and making it look better.

"Though you said I was ruggedly handsome." He said, quite taking to the habit of smirking and teasing. He'd been bored since he got here, and at least this was a little fun at no one's expense.

Effie pursed her lips. "Never letting me live that one down, are you?" She sighed dramatically, lying back unceremoniously. Quite frankly, Effie'd had the longest day in history. What with her mother being in the hospital, and her having to fulfil the duties of a trained, experienced escort, she didn't have time to be proper around Haymitch today.  
"Never." He said, standing and looking at her. "So, I just gotta look good, smile, and be funny?" Haymitch asked, looking at her.

"I wouldn't go for the funny approach... Your humour is a little..." Effie thought for a while, as not to insult him. "Dry? For the Capitol, I mean. They might not take to it well." She said, biting her pink lip.

"So they take killing kids well, but not sarcasm?" He snapped, pressing his fingers to his temples. "Yeah, don't lecture me, alright. I know I'll be the one doing the killing." Haymitch butted in, sighing.

Effie shut her mouth, lowering her finger and repressing her response to the first sentence. He wasn't adjusting too well, but could he be expected to? Instead, she sat herself upright. "Charismatic. Respectful. Handsome." She said, fixing his jacket.

"And sit up straight?" He half-joked, smirking down at her. She'd kicked her heels off and she was quite small. Haymitch would have been hated by most of his friends for actually enjoying the company of a Capitol citizen, but that barely crossed his mind as he smiled at Effie and took a couple steps back. "Coaching over? I'm bored of it. No offence, princess." He teased lightly.

"Of course, Haymitch." She said, drawling out his name and shaking her head. As the escort stepped into her heels, she trotted off back to the hospital to visit her mother, whilst Haymitch thought of his own.


	6. Chapter 6

A repetitive cycle of training and dinners, broken only by Effie's private coaching sessions, passed in a flash for Haymitch. He'd managed to intimidate some tributes, but continued to be an underdog by far. Effie had taught him how to scare tributes, what to show in training and how to act for the interviews. He listened mostly, though sometimes she would have to nag him. He'd grown a little closer to the escort, surprisingly.

Both left his room at the tribute centre, sitting down on the large couch and waiting for the results of their district's training scores. Effie didn't have much hope for Erick or Greta, but Maysilee was sure to do well, and she hoped the training for Haymitch had paid off. Scores weren't the best ways to determine anything, since a high score would result in Haymitch being a target, and a low score would mean little to no sponsors.

Maysilee was given an eight, Erick a two and Greta a four. Haymitch, however, gained a ten, which Effie congratulated enthusiastically, ignoring the other tributes entirely. She grinned at Haymitch, who smiled back only slightly, having been surrounded by his fellow district tributes. "See, Haymitch, I told you you could do it!" Effie smiled, hugging him like an old friend and planting a kiss on his cheek, before running off to fetch a celebratory drink.

"So, what, is she your girlfriend now?" Maysilee asked, irritated. "You know, I thought you hated the Capitol, how come you're best friends with our wannabe escort now?" She snapped, crossed arms, looking angrily at Haymitch, awaiting an explanation. It was obvious to the other tributes that Effie favoured him.

"No, it's not like that. We're all trying to win, aren't we?" He said, glaring right back. He wasn't about to take this lying down, he didn't want to be seen as a suck up to anyone, let alone Effie.

"Really? Because the magenta lipstick on your cheek says otherwise." Maysilee said, as Haymitch scraped the mark off with his rough fingers.

"She's just a stupid escort. I don't even know her. She's naive, a murderer, she's dumb, she's ugly... She's just the Capitol's princess. All she's here for is to remind us how worthless we are in the end, I hate her. I'm using her." Haymitch reasoned. He was frantic and his shallow declaration barely made sense. Little did he know until he heard heels clicking once, that Effie was behind him.

She placed a bottle of pink champagne on a small table, lip quivering for a second. "I brought everyone a glass, I... I have something to do. Congratulations, everyone." Effie said, voice stripped of flamboyance. It was an honest tone, one those tributes weren't supposed to hear, ever. She looked Haymitch in the eye then turned her head. How could she have been as stupid as to ever think that Haymitch would be her friend? He was a tribute and she wasn't even an official escort yet. She walked back to her room, the clips of her heels against the tile were distant, showing how slow she was walking.

Effie sat in her room, trying to repress how she felt. Everything. The stress of a Quell, her mother's coming demise, losing herself in the festivities and actually thinking Haymitch didn't see her for the facade she was forced to show. The young woman's slow breath outward quivered, turning to almost a hum, then to a whimper, and finally a loud sob. She cried for Valira, for Haymitch and for herself. She'd turned his district against him, and maybe he'd die for it.

Haymitch was frozen in the room, he ignored Effie's cries and grabbed the champagne. "If I cared, that would upset me. It's music to my ears." He spat bitterly, slumping on the couch and pressing his lips to the bottle, rough hands around the delicate neck. After a long swig, he looked at the other tributes, raising an eyebrow. "See? I don't care." He said, drinking again and again until the bottle was empty. Little did he know that this was a glimpse into his future, lying, repressing feelings and drinking alone, with everyone around looking on in disgust.

Haymitch woke that morning on the couch, saliva dried on his cheek, his head pounding. He stood, unsteady, and rushed to the bathroom, vomiting on the Capitol's pristine porcelain. As Haymitch regurgitated one of his bad decisions of the previous night, the rest flooded to his mind. He'd upset Effie, which hurt him because he really believed she cared about him. She'd told him to distance himself emotionally, so he did. He repressed any feelings of friendship with Effie. Despite not caring about losing his friend, Haymitch then realised that this could mean no sponsors. What he'd said to Effie had made her crack - she'd finally cried. Would she want him to win anymore? It was all just a game to Effie, after all.

Effie didn't show her face at breakfast, and Valira had scarcely been seen since they arrived in the Capitol. Nobody was there to coach them for their interviews, so the tributes did as they pleased until their stylists came to take them to their interviews.

The training escort watched from a television screen backstage as Haymitch got up there. This would be the last time she could see him before the arena. He was doing well, he looked good, he smiled, Effie was proud. Despite what he'd said, she needed him to win. He was her ticket, she didn't care if he felt no sentiment for him. Effie was pulled from her thoughts when Haymitch called every other tribute stupid. It was low, pathetic and meaningless, and it made Effie mad. He was a target now.

"The games haven't started yet!" She screamed, throwing her fist into the wall weakly, blood seeping lightly from the grazes left there. "What the hell?" The escort cursed, likely as a result of being around such savages for a fortnight. The second Haymitch could leave the stage, she marched toward him, slapping his face. "You're an idiot!"

Haymitch was taken aback, even by the sight of her, especially in such an angry state. "Hey, princess, calm down." He snapped, feeling a little hot blood on his cheek, and it wasn't his. "I don't care anymore. I don't care if I don't get out of there. I don't want to give them a good show." He growled, as Effie stepped back, looking into his eyes and seeing only sadness.

"I'm sorry, I made you a target for everyone. I'm sorry. You can do this, I know it, Haymitch." She said, hands shaking, eyes closed, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes and dragging her white powder from her cheeks in perfect, unbroken lines.

No one was around, people had been rushing about and everyone was too occupied to pay attention to this silly incident. Haymitch pulled her to the wall, taking her hand and rubbing the graze with his thumb. "C'mere, what did you do?" He murmured, frowning and clutching her hand to his chest. "I lied. I care about you. I care because I know you do..." He swallowed, looking into her eyes. Words like these were rare from Haymitch.

"I forgive you... Haymitch, just promise me you'll never drink to forget your sadness again." Effie said, looking up at him then pressing her face to his chest. Haymitch nodded before his arms wrapped around her small body, face in her blonde updo.

"I'm not going to see you again?" Haymitch asked, pulling back and stroking her tears away with his thumbs.

"I'll see you when you get out." She murmured, looking up at him.

"Any last advice?" The tribute asked.

"Stay alive."


	7. Chapter 7

First off, I'd like to thank everyone for the lovely reviews, views and follows. I really appreciate it, hope you like where this is going.

The Games were usually so exciting for Effie. Every year she'd find herself immersed in the action. She'd fall in love with tributes, she'd buy posters, she'd beg her father to sponsor her favourites. Every day she'd invite her friends over to watch together and talk about their favourite tributes. She didn't even see the tributes as people, that was, until this year.

As the announcement was made for the Hunger Games to begin, Effie was filled with anxiety. She knew Haymitch, as a person and a friend. Someone who had a family. She needed him to win. She found herself only able to watch from the corner of her eye, or from behind clasped hands. She did not want to see her tributes fall, especially Haymitch. As much as Effie tried to convince herself that she needed Haymitch to win only for the praise she would receive, she knew it was otherwise. Perhaps the possibility of death or the hours of forced company between the two; they'd managed to connect somewhat. She knew from their embrace before the Games that, under different circumstances, they could have been something very different.

Haymitch, having been able to select a backpack of choice due to tributes being mesmerised by the sheer beauty of this arena, had managed to run himself to safety. As he checked through the bag, he tried to run through his training with Effie. The obvious things were the first he did. He sterilised water and made sure his knife was sharpened. He had no time to think about the would-be-escort, his goal was to see his family again. Perhaps they were watching him right now, waiting until they had to see him tear others limb from limb in order to come back home and give them a lavish life. They'd be resented by the rest of the district, but at least they'd be together.

As night fell, Haymitch looked to the sky, awaiting the pictures. He saw Erick and Greta, but not Maysilee. Two of his district were down on the first day, of which he felt some relief. He knew it was selfish, but he hadn't been forced to kill them, and it would make going back home a lot easier. He'd managed a day without killing, which was rather amazing considering how many tributes there had been. His mind wandered to the escort, and how she was taking losing her tributes. It was a more comforting thought than the distraught families in Twelve, because Effie's mourning would be far more superficial.

Despite what Haymitch thought, Effie wasn't sat in front of the games crying over her decreasing chances to watch one of her tributes become a victor. She was, instead, sat in a pristine, white hospital room in the Capitol. She held the cold hand of her mother, who was a ghostly pale. The only hint of colour on Valira's bare skin were the flecks of blood from her coughing. Effie watched as her mother choked again, pulling her own hand to her mouth and watching on in horror.

"Effie, come." Her mother said, extending a weak hand which Effie took a hold of. Her warm fingers intertwined with those of her mother and tears surfaced in her eyes. "Don't cry for me. I don't want your tears. Effie, you have a job to do now. What you don't need is feelings. Take what happens next as a lesson. Love only ends in hurt. Don't treat your tributes as children. Don't love anyone."

Effie nodded. Advice from a woman she considered wise, on her deathbed, seemed reliable. Perhaps Valira was right, Effie thought. Love was a weakness. She should learn to repress sentiment early on and realise that no one would ever truly care about her. Her thoughts drifted to Haymitch, who she assumed was still alive. He was not only a tribute, not just a ticket to her fame. She cared about him, and she didn't care if it hurt. Because what was happening before of her now was hurt enough.

"I'll make you proud, mother." Effie promised, kissing her mother's cold, convulsing hand. "My tribute is going to win. He'll be your last legacy, he'll be what everyone remembers you for. He'll be the making of me." She whispered, leaving out how much she wanted Haymitch to see his family again. If Effie couldn't have a family, he deserved his.

Valira's final words had been cold, and in no way touching, but that was the most love Effie had ever felt from the woman. The escort gave Effie a genuine smile, the first one she could ever remember seeing. As the light left Valira's eyes, Effie threw her head down, kissing the limp hand of her mother, and letting tears slip down her cheeks. She looked up at her mother's body, remembering what she'd said. She wasn't supposed to cry. She wiped her tears and stood, realising now that she had no one. Effie may have been an orphan, but she wasn't a child anymore.

Effie left the doctors to their job, throwing herself into her own. She didn't feel much like sleeping, so she caught up with what she'd missed on the Games that day and made notes. Haymitch's odds weren't bad, and she'd known Erick and Greta would die early on. It was no use mourning for them. Effie channelled her anger and sadness into her work. For the next few days, she floated around parties and gatherings to find rich men who wanted to sponsor her tributes. It took convincing and favours, but it had to be done. Valira would have wanted it.

Over those days, Effie forgot herself, painting the girl she was behind a mask of makeup and brightly coloured suits. She focused on Haymitch, swearing that she would never genuinely care about anyone again if he failed her. He was her the final hope for Effie's sentiment.


	8. Chapter 8

Again, thank you so much for the follows and reviews, really helps motivate me to write more, so glad you're enjoying it!

Haymitch slept behind a tree, back against the strong roots, curled up around his backpack. He woke when he heard a rustle. The tribute opened his eyes to find three citizens of Panem, ready to pounce. He shifted, getting up quickly and darting his knife out; luckily, he'd slept with it. What Haymitch didn't know was that the knife would become an almost permanent sleeping partner to him following the Games.

For a moment, Haymitch let himself think. Each of these tributes were in the same situation as him. Each forced to murder for their own survival. The difference was, that these were careers, and one of them had a machete swinging his way. Haymitch managed to move quick enough for the weapon to get stuck in the root of the tree, and jammed his knife into that tribute's neck.

This death played in his mind for what felt like forever, until he forced his knife into another tribute's stomach. He weakened, falling back as the remaining career smirked, pinning him down and raising his own knife in a taunting fashion. Haymitch thought he deserved this. He deserved to die for what he'd done, he couldn't live a life where he could remember doing this horrible deed. So he closed his eyes and waited; but it never came.

The attacker collapsed with a thud, and Haymitch shoved him off, standing. He saw Maysilee, standing before him with a poison dart gun, aimed his way. He scampered back, holding the knife out toward her. This was a mistake. He could never kill his own district. He knew her family, his girl was friends with her. He dropped the knife and looked at her. "Thank you." He said, realising that if she was going to shoot, she would have already.

"Heh, come on. You've got better odds than me, and I've got a gun. Together, we could probably make it a little longer." She said, looking at the bodies and shrugging it off. Both let the adrenaline take over and walked from the murder scene.

"So, that's why you saved me, huh?" Haymitch asked, walking beside her. It was good to talk to someone. He hadn't said a word in days. As the two began to talk and joke like old friends, the arena seemed less false, and they felt as though they were simply walking through the restricted forests of district 12.

Effie watched on, hands on her temples, scribbling notes. The best outcome would be one of them dying in battle, preferably Maysilee. The worst would be Haymitch killing Maysilee whilst she trusted him, because Haymitch would never live that down; if he lived at all. She didn't think Maysilee had the strength to kill her fellow tribute, as she'd watched her resist from killing Greta earlier on. This was good, and safe. The people of the Capitol would like this friendship. Effie was pleased with the day so far.

She looked away from the screen and drew a breath in. The young escort still hadn't had time to react to Haymitch's near-death, and it has shaken her up quite a bit. Effie's body convulsed with inaudible sobs, sobs she didn't want to let out. Instead, she made three painful moans and realised that this stress wouldn't be over it she cried about it. She sucked a breath back in and focused back on Haymitch.


	9. Chapter 9

Haymitch had sustained a few minor injuries, but as a precaution to any infection, Effie decided to send them some medicine. It was expensive, but she was doing very well with sponsors at the moment. Her long, pale, manicured fingers ghosted over the lettering shed printed on the crisp card. "I wish I could talk to you." She said quietly, pursing her lips and putting the card in the metal case.

As the parachute floated delicately toward Haymitch, he was reminded of Effie. Whilst Maysilee was washing her face in a stream, he made his way to the tiny metal box and smiled. "Thanks, princess." He smirked, chuckling a little. He opened it and read the words she'd penned:

This is for your battle scars. I saw your darling family being interviewed. You can do this, Haymitch. For them. - E

The tribute bit his lip as he read Effie's words. The amount she was allowed to write was restricted, but he could hear the sentiment as he read it. Haymitch looked up, knowing she was watching from somewhere. He really must have been in with a shot if Capitol people were going all the way to 12 to interview his family. He let a smile break out on his face. Little did he know that beyond the screen, Effie was smiling right back, tears in her eyes. She wanted to see him again, outside. He opened the medicine and healed his cuts. Contact with others was a very good distraction from the thought of murder.

Maysilee walked up behind him, puzzled. "You got a parachute? Looks like she really did pick you." She said, raising an eyebrow. She dipped her finger in the medicine and put it on the large cut up her leg. "She even wrote you a little note? Oh, how sweet!" She said sarcastically.

"Shut up, alright?" He murmured gruffly. "She's our escort, she had to write a note." He added. They really shouldn't have been talking about this. It could cost them everything. The Games were games, the escorts weren't meant to be seen as people, and the tributes should have been killing each other. The Gamemakers would not allow this to continue.

"Look, would you just leave? I don't want to kill you, you don't want to kill me. There are, what, eight left? I don't want it to be left down to us." Haymitch said, strolling a little closer to the cliff edge, kicking a rock with his foot.

Maysilee crossed her arms and nodded. "Say hello to my sister for me, when you get back." She said, smiling slightly at him. "I didn't mean what I said. We're friends, right?" She swallowed, quietly.

Haymitch nodded, smiling a little at her and watching her go. He occupied himself by kicking stones and pebbles off the cliff, surprised when they bounced back. He did it several more times, to check it was consistent. Before he could even consider how he'd use this to his advantage, he heard a scream. A feminine scream.

On her side of the screen, Effie was covering her mouth. Of course the Gamemakers wouldn't forgive what Maysilee had suggested. Escorts and tributes were opposite ends of the social spectrum, it wasn't allowed for them to be friends. A victor and an escort perhaps, but a tribute?

Pink birds, with razor sharp beaks were piercing Maysilee's flesh. Blood poured out of her, and she writhed in pain. Haymitch ran to the scene, birds flying away as they weren't meant for him. He caught Maysilee's weak body, knowing she was fading away. "May... Look at me. It's okay." He whispered softly, lips pressing to her hair for a short period.

"H... H... H..." She attempted, but her throat was cut and she could do nothing but breathe in a very ragged, painful fashion. Haymitch held her hand, shushing her and rocking her slightly. He thought of what he usually did for his brother, when the little boy was sick. Or what he did for their mother, when she was hurt from his father's beatings. Everyone in 12 was like family, including Maysilee. He didn't have any ulterior motive as he softly spoke to her.

"Think about the trees, Maysilee. The green trees, the freshly baked bread, the Seam and the town. Our grey eyes and our blue eyes." Haymitch said. In fact, his words were comforting to himself, too. As he watched Maysilee's breathing become harder, he continued to speak, until she stopped moving altogether. He let her hand go and set her down. Haymitch stood and saluted her subtly with three fingers, something the cameras wouldn't pick up. It would be risky to salute the cameras, only an idiot would do that.

On a pink couch in a lavish room in the Capitol, sat Effie. Her makeup down her cheeks in streaks. "Oh, Haymitch." She sobbed, wiping her cheeks. She couldn't help but feel emotional. It was who she was, never mind what her mother thought. Haymitch was such a good man, he didn't deserve to be in the Games. Maysilee had died for what she'd said to Haymitch. She could have lasted longer had she not insinuated anything. Haymitch's popularity would skyrocket from this, a touching moment for the entire country, but Effie didn't think about that. All she thought concerned Haymitch, and how he was so gentle despite his demeanour. And of course, how she looked forward to seeing him again.

Haymitch ran his fingers over Maysilee's token, a Mockingjay. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and gritted his teeth. Her family didn't deserve this tragedy, but at least shed left the world comforted, he hoped. The pin was something he'd remember, something that would remind him of her unfair death, and something that would come into play in giving his favourite ever tribute a chance in many years to come; Katniss Everdeen.


	10. Chapter 10

Maysilee's death marked the 44th tribute dead. Haymitch had only three more to kill before he could leave. Her murder, at the hands of the gamemakers, had left him angry and borderline savage. Having passed the stage of sadness, he could do no more but embrace his rage. He clutched his knife and left her body, rushing out of the clearing and trying to find anyone to take his frustration out on. This wasn't Haymitch, he wasn't thinking straight at all. Not far away, he saw a tribute, a career.

Haymitch threw himself toward the boy, ploughing his knife into the tribute's side and trying to twist it. He smirked maliciously when he heard a canon, before realising that it wasn't the boy before him. The tribute slashed Haymitch's stomach, throwing him to the ground and trying to get on top of him. With what strength he had, running on adrenaline and anger, Haymitch gave the boy a fatal stab, dragging his knife out and standing.

The canon's deep laugh sounded, mocking how Haymitch had given in, how he'd let the Games change him. He almost gave up at that point, if it weren't for the announcement that he was a part of the final two. The blond looked at the kid he'd murdered, and walked away, panting. His stomach bled heavily, coating his hand in thick, hot blood.

Effie could barely watch. She'd done all she could. They'd changed him, and he'd never wanted to change like that, and she could only blame herself, but she wouldn't show that. If he was to die now, she would have failed. She'd have failed and lost a very promising companion for future Games. She'd have lost a friend. The Games never made Effie uneasy, suffering was entertainment for the Capitol, and routine for District 12, perhaps those factors meant the two were suited to their current situations. Despite this, as she watched Haymitch holding in his protruding intestines, Effie gagged in disgust.

Haymitch approached a clearing, one he could swear hadn't been there minutes ago. He was beside the cliff, looking down at it. He dozed in and out of consciousness, dizzy as he stood. His vision focused momentarily on the girl before him. He needed to outlast her, she was dying too. His only disadvantage was his lack of a weapon, lost in the blood and misty state of severe injury. The girl had an axe.

Effie's eyes filled with fear, bringing her gloved, ivory, hands up to cover her mouth as the girl threw her axe directly at Haymitch's head. The escort whimpered, before opening her eyes and realising Haymitch was alive, barely. She wasn't sure how he'd done it, but his last rival had been stabbed by her own axe. Without questioning this blessing, Effie touched her television screen, smiling proudly as she caressed the close up of her tribute's face. He was no longer her tribute; he was her victor.


	11. Chapter 11

Perhaps it was Stockholm Syndrome, but once Haymitch was lifted from the arena, his thoughts fell to Effie. His family came first, of course, but she would be the next person he'd see. Euphoria, relief and glory set in as a result of his victory, and his memories of the hurt he'd caused were blurred. Haymitch could do nothing but enjoy his fate, a fate better than he'd ever have expected to achieve.

Effie ran as fast as her blue heels could carry her. She wore a blue shirt, a matching skirt and a face full of makeup to greet her victor. She reached the medical centre, mere hours after the Games had ended. She'd been greeted with congratulations on her way, and as much as she'd taken advantage of the crowds, the praise and the cheers, she really wanted to see Haymitch. Not only because he was her victor, she wanted to see him because she genuinely cared, despite her mother's warnings. He couldn't hurt her, so she thought.

The miraculous medicine of the Capitol had Haymitch on his feet by the time Effie reached him. She threw her arms around him, grinning and laughing. "Oh, Haymitch, my victor! You did so well! You couldn't have done better!" She exclaimed proudly in her thick Capitol accent, cupping his freshly-shaved face in her small hands and smiling. Her approval gave him the illusion of a real victory. The escort could do nothing but hold him as close as possible.

"I stayed alive. For them. And you." He pointed out, kissing her head enthusiastically and holding her tiny body close. "I can't wait to see them, I'll tell them all about you. I'll tell them that not all the Capitol citizens are bad, I swear, I'll tell them you're my friend." Haymitch said, grinning at Effie and picking her up, spinning her around and laughing as she squealed. He felt good as new, he wondered what they'd even done to him. In his state of ecstasy, Haymitch even went so far as to pepper Effie's head and cheeks with kisses. This made a change from the last time he'd seen her, he was so glad that hadn't been the last time.

The escort smiled up at him, making direct eye contact, before playfully dragging him out of the medical centre and taking him for his stylist to work on. Haymitch's victory ceremony passed by, and he felt proud. Proud that he'd won, that he'd be able to feed his family and give his girl a good life. In a short while, they were speeding home on the train.

Effie stood beside Haymitch as the train came to a halt. "Eff, I just want to thank you." He said, turning to his escort. "I'd have given up without you... You're the one who reminded me of who I'm doing this for." He said, smiling fondly at her as the doors slid open.

He looked toward the crowd of 12's citizens who had gathered to welcome him, they cheered him, for the dignity and calmness he'd left Maysilee with, even after she'd died so brutally. He smiled at everyone, still very much a naive teenager. Haymitch looked a little puzzled. "I can't see my family, or my girl." He told Effie quietly, letting his proud smile drop for the first time in a long time, eyebrows knitting together.

"I had a message, to say they're waiting for you back at your house. It's a surprise, apparently." Effie said, grinning excitedly for him to see his family once again. It was bittersweet to see him go, she wished she could have at least had dinner with him, he'd been too tired to talk on the train, staying asleep for most of the journey.

He stepped off the train and looked at her. "See ya for the Victory Tour, princess." He added, smirking for effect and watching her shake her pretty little head and laugh. Even her laugh was articulate.

After greeting his fellow citizens, Haymitch rushed home. As he got nearer, and everything got quieter, his excitement faded. He thought of the murder he'd committed in the arena. He thought of the sheer sickening nature of what he'd done. He was a murderer. The guilt set in, and he swore he could almost smell the blood of the tributes who'd died before his eyes. In truth, he could smell very real blood.

As Haymitch pushed the door to his modest home open, before him, facing him in perfect, organised lines, were the decaying, murdered, bloodied corpses of his mother, his brother and his girl.

At that, something inside Haymitch broke forever.

(Thank you so much for enjoying this so far, I've read all the comments so many times, and I love checking my view count! I'd like to do the victory tour, would you like to see a sort of one chapter epilogue spanning the years after that? I don't want this to drag on aimlessly so I'd be grateful for your input.)


	12. Chapter 12

When Effie's train pulled into District 12, and she shot off it before anyone else. The escort, now full time, practically ran to Haymitch's home in Victor's Village, as fast as her magenta heels could carry her. Once she'd thrown herself against the door, panting and smiling, she knocked and called for the young man she considered a good friend to open the door for her. "Don't be a tease, Haymitch. I know you've missed me too!" She laughed excitedly. Once her laughing died down, she crossed her arms and pouted. Perhaps he was in the garden, she thought. Effie hadn't quite prepared herself for what she would see there.

Haymitch was sat on a bed of fine snow, before three stone graves. They weren't grand monuments to show how much he loved his lost family - like Effie's mother's memorial in the Capitol - they were simple headstones, the best 12 had to offer. He turned to Effie, eyes dark and heavy, one hand clutching a bottle. "You knew about this!" He growled, standing unsteadily on his feet and trudging toward her, discarding the empty bottle by his side and grabbing her shoulders. "It's all your fault." He spat.

Effie's pale face scrunched up as he spoke to her. She could almost taste the dark liquor on his breath. "I- I- I had no idea. Oh, Haymitch." She whispered, grieving for his family. Everything he'd told her about them, it was all so sweet. They were his everything, and now he was left alone. "What did Snow do?" She swallowed, speaking in a whisper, looking up at him.

"He killed them, what the hell else do you think, princess?" He said, shoving her away and almost knocking her over. He'd need something stronger to get him through today. "Just as I got home. I never even got to see them. I played a part in Snow's game, for them. To see them again. And all I got to see was their lifeless corpses." He hissed at her, clenching his fists. Effie seemed to be acting sincerely, she didn't know a thing about this. By the look on her face, he could tell that she did care about him, even in his hazy state.

"If I hadn't helped you win, they'd still be here." Effie said in a scared, quiet voice. She looked at the graves and frowned. "Haymitch... What has happened to you?" She asked softly, carefully bringing her small hands to his rough cheeks, caressing them softly and letting tears run down her own. This guilt, Effie would try to push away, she'd try to bury it, but it would always be there, throughout her life.

Haymitch gave in, letting his drunken body sink into her touch and let her drag him inside his house. He hated the house; every room was Snow's sick gift, reminding him of the Games every second. 12 was going through a very cold winter, with children dying and sickness rife, he didn't have to suffer for his big, warm house. Haymitch hated that. He appeared so selfish that he had become selfish, he wouldn't help anyone else, not to mention picking up a bad habit of drinking.

The prep team cleaned up Haymitch. He felt too numb to do anything to stop them. Effie's next task was getting him to smile, or at least not scowl. She sat on his couch, taking his large, coarse hands. "Do you remember when you drank? Before the Games... And you promised me you wouldn't again? What we had before the Games was a very special friendship, Haymitch." She said, giving him a disappointed and sympathetic look.

"And you promised I'd see them again. Everyone I loved is dead, Effie. I don't want to go on a tour to celebrate the people I murdered." He said, sighing. "And I don't want to give in to Snow again." Haymitch said, proud that he defied the President, but heavily regretting the act as it was what killed his family.

"It's all my fault, but there's nothing we can do about it now." She said, taking a flask from his pocket and placing it in her own. "Not while you're on television, you can't have it." She warned, taking his hand and standing.

"Don't you even know how I feel? I lost everyone!" He snapped, gripping her hand in a painful hold. Haymitch gritted his teeth menacingly at the escort.

"Yes. My mother died during your Games. I have no one. No one at all." She said, glaring at him. "All I have is this, and you. And I can't lose you." She added sincerely, sighing at how vulnerable she really was. Losing Haymitch would destroy her.

The victor relaxed his grip and sighed. Defeated, he walked outside and greeted the cameras with a look of indifference. During his short interview, he even managed a smile, before the cameras shut off and it was Effie's duty to take him to the train.


	13. Chapter 13

The train journey was different to any they'd had before. There was no air of hostility, but neither spoke to each other. Effie wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but perhaps she'd been naive enough to believe he'd fall in love with her. Rather, he'd fallen for wine and liquor. Pushing that thought out of her mind, she walked to the back room of the train, past the lavatory. Inside that small, lavish room, Effie could hear Haymitch, face down in the porcelain, vomiting. The thought of it made Effie gag audibly.

The man emerged from the bathroom, far too drunk to take notice of Effie. He threw himself on a couch at the front of the train, the very same room in which he'd started to befriend Effie six months ago. How different he was now. His intoxicated exhaustion took over, and soon he was snoring away on the sofa, still fully clothed in an expensive, tailored, Capitol suit.

Once Effie got over the stench of vomit and alcohol, she sat herself down on a chair opposite him. Haymitch choking on his own vomit and dying before they even reached District Eleven was highly undesirable. The escort winced as she clenched her hand, realising she'd been ignoring some pain there for some time. She peeled off her white gloves slowly, to find two, identically mirrored bruises marring her delicate skin.

She fetched herself some ice to numb the area, as it was quite painful. Tears came to Effie's eyes at the thought of how this happened. Haymitch didn't even know how hard he'd grabbed her hands. She didn't like the drunk he'd become, not one bit. She wanted the old, snarky, caring Haymitch back.

Effie returned and sat herself down beside him on the sofa a few minutes later, his head in her lap, stroking his tanned forehead gently then carding her pale fingers through his hair. People in Twelve must have always been outside, and without a parasol, she thought. They were so different to each other, but perhaps that's what made it so... Good. As she comforted him with her touch, his twisted expression softened. "You didn't mean to hurt me, did you, Haymitch? You wouldn't hurt me again..." She whispered, not so much to the unconscious slob, but more to the Haymitch deep down inside him, for whom she cared deeply.

Hours later, after Effie had napped a little too, Haymitch woke in her lap. He wasn't sober, and he wasn't hungover, but he was coherent. He took her small hand for reasons he did not know, looking at her peaceful face. Her expression scrunched up in a wince, and he frowned, sitting up. "Eff?" He asked, looking her over. His eyes reached her hand and he looked horrified. "Who did this to you!? You're letting someone hurt you!?" He asked loudly. Haymitch was drunk. He wasn't thinking properly, hence why he wasn't blaming Effie for the death of his loved ones. He could only concentrate on her bruises.

The concern in Haymitch's voice woke the escort and warmed her heart a little. He really did care. He'd never get away with this if he'd done it in the right mind, or if he'd done anything worse. But this was unintentional, evidently. Effie frowned. "You did, my dear." She whispered, watching as the words broke his heart.

"You're all I have left... Why would I do that?" Haymitch said, in a very vulnerable place. Effie decided not to reply, as he was quite drunk, and she didn't want to upset him any further. He stroked her hands as gently as he could, ghosting his calloused hands over her bruises. He pressed his lips to each twice, then looked into her tear-filled eyes.

"You should sleep." She whispered, pulling her hands gently from his grip and removing his tie without wincing once. Unable to resist, she pulled Haymitch to her and held him, peppering his forehead with kisses as gently as she could. Tiredness was washing over him once again, and he slept in her small arms.


	14. Chapter 14

Haymitch could barely utter an eulogy in District 11. He was too drunk or broken to feel guilty as he did it, he even stormed offstage early in District 6. Effie's most embarrassing moment was likely when he vomited on stage in District 7. After learning that he hurt her, he'd done a very good job of speaking the bare minimum to her, apart from the night after District 6. They had no time to restock the train, as Haymitch had managed to drink it dry. Tonight, he had to go without.

As night fell, Effie heard a crash in his room, followed by a loud groan of pain. She got up, dressed in a lace nightgown, covered by a silk robe. Effie was greeted with the sight of blood as she opened his door. He seemed to have slipped whilst holding a knife, and managed to cut his arm. He was drenched in sweat, panting, obviously recovering from a nightmare.

Though everything about the scene reminded her of her mother, Effie helped him up, staining her nightgown in the process. She dragged him to his en suite, drying his arm off first and taking the supplied first aid kid. She wiped his arm down, sterilising it. After what happened to her mother, she was not above this. Haymitch was obviously still in a hazy state, and he was confused as to why he was loosing blood. As Effie sewed the wound up, Haymitch seemed to come around a little.

He murmured a thanks, to which Effie replied. "You sleep with a knife?" She asked, putting a bandage over the gash and helping him to take off his stained shirt. She was a little surprised that he still did, after all, the games were over, what else did he need to protect himself from?

"Nightmares. It's comforting to sleep with. I don't usually get them when I drink. Numbs it a little." Haymitch said, throat raw from shouting, hands shaking a little from blood loss and withdrawal from alcohol. He didn't expect Effie to understand, but he was grateful for her fixing him. He put his arms through a clean shirt she gave him, and closed his eyes as she kissed his head. "Why do you always do that?" He asked, referring to the kiss.

"Kissing you? I don't know. I find comfort in it." She said, shrugging a little and sitting herself down in his lap. "I think you like it too." Effie whispered, resting her head against his. He hadn't missed that she wore wigs every day now, and she painted her face extravagantly, but right now, her face was free of Capitol paint.

"How do you get your hair into those wigs?" Haymitch asked, wanting to get off the topic. He touched her candy pink hair, wondering why she slept with it on.

"I don't." The escort whispered, biting her lip. Conventional Capitol beauty didn't matter to Haymitch, and had nothing to hide from him. She was raw with him, and only him. Effie carefully put her hands under her wig, taking it off and looking at him. Since she'd become and escort, she would always wear wigs, and her hair was an obstacle to getting them on properly.

Haymitch ran his hand up the back of her head, touching her bare scalp, and the short stubbly hair there. Something about seeing her like this made her beautiful to him. He leaned in close, the most sober he'd been in months. "You're gorgeous, princess." He whispered fondly.

Effie couldn't smell liquor on his breath, and he used the nickname which had become somewhat affectionate. These factors, combined with his kind words, compelled her to his kiss his lips. Never mind what her mother had taught her, she did love him. Haymitch's hands cupped her cheeks as he reciprocated wholly.

After they pulled away, Effie stayed in his embrace for a few minutes. "Get some rest." She said, standing carefully and taking him to his bed. She dropped his hand once he sat down. "Goodnight, Haymitch." She whispered, leaving his room swiftly.


	15. Chapter 15

(I'm sorry for not updating, guys. My last few chapters were poorly written, I've just had a lot on my plate. That's all.)

Haymitch could have once again confined himself to silence. He could have sentenced himself to isolation because he didn't think he deserved her. But she had kissed him. Him. He couldn't ignore that, nor could he ignore how much he cared for her. He climbed into bed, not getting any more sleep, but thinking about Effie rather than nightmares.

In the morning, Effie sat by the breakfast table, poised and silent. He approached her as carefully as he could and sat opposite her. She'd painted her face again, and she wore a purple wig. It felt strange drinking tea that wasn't spiked. "So, I'll try to do a real eulogy this time." He promised.

Effie grinned, corners of her eyes crinkling. "Thank you, Haymitch." She said. "Did you sleep well? I did. How's your arm? Is it looking any better? Does it hurt?" She asked many questions, ecstatic from the previous evening.

Haymitch smiled back with a little laugh. "I'm fine, sweetheart. Take it easy. You're acting like you've never kissed anyone before." He teased, tucking into his breakfast.

"Well, never anyone I've wanted to kiss." Said Effie.

"What do you mean by that?" Haymitch asked, shoving another mouthful past his lips.

"How do you think I got you all those sponsors?" Effie asked, not with any accusing tone. It wasn't his fault. That's what she'd had to do, she expected he'd know.

Suddenly, Haymitch didn't feel like eating. "That's... That's what you did? Shit, Eff. I didn't... I... I'd never have asked you to do that." He was in an uncomfortable situation, and he was thirsty for liquor.

Effie pulled herself up from her chair once she'd finished sipping her tea. She took the hand of his good arm and smiled down at him. "I don't regret it." She said. "But there's one thing I would regret. If you and I didn't act on this." Effie whispered, and Haymitch lifted from his chair, complying entirely.

A few hours later, Haymitch succeeded in giving an excellent eulogy in District 5, rewarded by Effie's praise. Though the train had been restocked, he promised not to drink any of it. Effie could be his new drug, his guiding light, as she had been in the Games.

That night, he didn't want to have nightmares, so Effie allowed him to sleep beside her. She cuddled up against his back, holding him safe. It worked.

This ritual worked for them every day and every night, until they reached the Capitol.


	16. Chapter 16

"Snow's party is the greatest party of the year. It's beautiful, they light up the palace... It's... Anyway, the point is that you can't keep messing up your hair after the stylists do it for you!" Effie scolded, swatting his hand away, which only fuelled the fire and amused him. They bickered constantly, but both found it endearing. Effie was less open to acting as though she did like how much he irritated her playfully.

"Princess, you're getting tense again. It'll only upset you." He said, in an intentionally condescending tone, standing from his chair and broadening his shoulders so that the stylists left him alone. Effie was pressed up against the dressing table, daintily; one foot pointed and the other sitting flat on the ground. "Are your heels smaller? Because you look..." Haymitch commented, looking down at her and smiling. "Adorable." He said, catching her lips in a kiss.

"You're lucky this lipstick doesn't smudge easily." Effie responded, one hand on his chest, her face still close to his. He was also quite lucky that she knew he was only fooling around, trying to wind her up a little. "I'll see you at the palace." She added, pulling away.

Haymitch caught her hand and pulled her back over. "Hold up. Effie, sweetheart, will you be my date to the party?" He asked, smirking. Parties were a big thing in the Capitol, but he hadn't really experienced them himself, and this would mean something to her. He'd also like to make a bit of a statement, although making a statement didn't go so well last time.

"Yes!" Effie grinned, throwing her arms around him. Seconds later, she tensed and pulled back. "Haymitch, I don't know if we could... I don't know if this is allowed. Escorts and victors aren't usually so close in age..." She said, biting her lilac lip.

"It'll get you some publicity. I have nothing to lose but you, and you're way too popular for anything to happen to you. You're untouchable." He said, stroking his thumb across her cheek. "Get back here when you've prettied yourself up." The victor teased, at which Effie rolled her eyes and left.

When Effie returned, she was wearing a white dress. It reached her mid thigh and adorned with expensive lace. Five-inch heels - something very low for Effie Trinket - pushed her up so that her eyes were level with his chin. It'd be easier to dance that way. Her hair was a blonde wig with tiny white flowers dotted within it. Her lips were painted a peach colour. Effie Trinket didn't do understated, but when she did, hell, was she beautiful.

"Effie." Haymitch breathed, taking in that sight. It was a cliché to have a moment like this, but he supposed everyone did. At some point everyone had to see their significant other in something beautiful and be speechless, right? Did that make her his significant other? He thought about it for a split second before taking her arm and kissing her temple. He couldn't mess up her makeup as had to look good for the photos of them together, though he'd have loved to do so.

The palace was glowing, littered with people in ridiculous wigs. Haymitch ignored their greedy festivities to begin with, as he focuses on the small, pale arm linked with his.

"They're eating already?" Haymitch asked, snatching a canapé from a waiter's plate and shoving it into his mouth.

Effie turned up her nose a little at his vulgar eating habits. "Well, yes. They eat all night. That pink fluid over there helps one vomit, to allow more eating." She said, pointing out the drink.

"What the hell? Do you know what we go through at home? Kids die in the winter because there's no food for them. All I had when I was a kid was freaking grain! And you want to be so greedy as to eat twice as much?" Haymitch said, loud and angry, dropping her arm. Was he going to become one of them?

Effie frowned and took his hand. "I'd never do that. Haymitch, I'm different, you know that. That's why we're a couple." She said, looking up at him with big eyes and a large frown.

The victor sighed and kissed his escort's cheek. She was right, she must have been different. They'd both changed for each other, and that's what love... Or whatever this was, was about. He walked her to the dance floor and took her waist, smiling as he watched her count steps.

"Relax, princess, I got this." He said, taking her attention from the floor and making eye contact with her. He danced with her, occasionally messing up and laughing with her. Fun like this couldn't be had with her Capitol associates. Haymitch was her only real friend.

From a distance - as he always was - Snow watched. He called for Effie to be brought to him. She was told he'd be congratulating her for her efforts, for her brilliance in bringing 12 its second ever victor. But as usual with Snow, this was a lie.

As Effie excitedly approached the President on his balcony, she couldn't help but bow to him and comment on how wonderful the party was. With a sickening smile, Snow retaliated. "Miss Trinket, darling, let us talk about your current situation." He said, putting a hand on her lower back and leading her inside.

Effie nodded, wondering if she was to be promoted. She was unnerved by his cold touch, but excited at the prospect of furthering her career.

"A district boy and an escort. I don't think so." Snow spat, glaring at her. "Perhaps you thought it would interest the public, to see... Star-crossed lovers, brought together by the power of the Games." He laughed darkly, then stopped abruptly, getting closer to Effie. "But, Miss Trinket, the Games are not about love. They are about suffering. I don't find love stories entertaining."

The escort could smell the blood on his breath, and did all she could not to gag. "I'm s-s-sorry, President Snow." She whimpered, the smallest she'd ever felt. His snake-like gaze bore down to her soul, and she shuddered uncontrollably.

"So, I suggest you break his heart. I killed his family to make him a symbol. A victor to look at, for tributes not to be tempted to follow his direction. To enforce the rules. I need him to by my symbol, not your lover." Snow's voice did not once raise or lower, it stayed at an eerie, calculated, steady tone. "I need him broken, or I'll ensure he is broken, by denying him the one thing he cares about; you."

Effie knew what this meant. A cup sat on the table: poison. There was no way to win in this situation. She suppose this is how tributes felt; everyone a part of Snow's wicked, twisted game, but he would always emerge a victor.

Seconds later, Effie was hunched over in a bathroom, vomiting painfully from fear. He wouldn't be able to continue without her. He'd drink himself to death.

"Sweetheart? Someone told me you were in here... A guy with red eyebrows and green hair. Wait, what's wrong?" He asked, bursting in as he heard her retch. As her big, watery eyes met his, he frowned. "You're drinking that pink stuff." He assumed.

It was the easiest way to break his heart, so Effie did it. She nodded. "I'm sorry, Haymitch. Your way of life and mine, they're different. We can't be... Darling I, I'm so sorry." She said, looking up at him. "I don't want to be with you." She lied. Effie was an escort, a woman of words, a performer. She was a very convincing liar.

Haymitch wasn't angry that she was wasting her food, it was only a realisation. Their principles differed, and that was more than important to Haymitch. "Did you ever care?" He asked quietly.

"Never. It was all publicity." Effie said.

Haymitch's heart tore in two. He left her in that bathroom, left his party, and refused to speak to her until he was inevitably involved in the next Games. Haymitch drank and drank. Effie fed herself the lie she'd told Haymitch and began to believe it. Heeding her mother's words, she denied herself love of any kind. Effie painted herself behind a mask of makeup, wigs, heels and false flamboyance, until she became that on the inside.

(Okay guys, I'd just like to thank you for sticking with me so long! Thank you so much. I love reviews and I love everything you guys say! Thank you so much. Next chapter is going to be a little epilogue, then I think we're done. You guys are the best for reading this!)


	17. Chapter 17

As the years passed, nothing changed. Haymitch was a drunk, Effie was as much of her mother as she'd ever been. She masked her feelings, acting like she'd never loved him, but it broke her heart every time he called her "princess". Haymitch couldn't bear her, or anyone else for that matter. They watched their tributes die every year, and did their best to pretend it hadn't happened. For twenty-four long years, this ritual repeated its self, until they met Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark.

"She reminds me of you, you know." Effie had sniffed. They were watching Katniss put Rue to rest. Their relationship had thawed over the years, it was in the past and no longer hurt to much when either insulted each other. In fact, they were almost playful. He supposed it was spending time together so often.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think she was my kid." Haymitch said with a small laugh, wiping his eyes, spiked tea in hand.

"The pin she wears... Is that the same as Maysilee's?" Effie asked quietly. She hadn't said her name in years. Their conversations hadn't reached a point so deep since the second Quarter Quell.

"Yeah. It is Maysilee's, in fact." Haymitch swallowed, walking away from Effie. His voice faltered at her name and he grabbed himself a bottle of wine.

Effie and Haymitch worried together over how the two had won. They knew what Snow was capable of. It occurred to Effie that Haymitch still didn't know why she'd broken his heart all those years ago. But she couldn't possibly tell. The two grew closer over that year, Effie was devastated when she called Haymitch's name, with far less enthusiasm than her mother had, all those years ago. She couldn't watch him in another Quell, and he would never kill Katniss, he wouldn't make it out. But she was even more upset when Peeta volunteered himself as tribute, because Haymitch was powerless to save these two.

Though Katniss was often harsh with Effie, she liked her. She was used to people being cold with her, of course, she'd had Haymitch all these years. But Peeta sometimes felt like her own, in the same way Katniss belonged to Haymitch. He was gentle, kind, understanding... She could talk to him. She watched the Quell with fear, clueless.

One day, Haymitch threw himself into her room. "Come on, let's go. No time to pack a bag." He said quickly, yanking her up from her couch.

"Where?" She asked, straightening out her skirt, shocked at how sudden this had all been.

"District 13. Welcome to the revolution, sweetheart." Haymitch said with a smirk, picking her up because she refused to move on her own.

"Why am I coming? I'm just your escort!" She hissed, struggling in his arms to get herself comfortable in her ridiculous pink dress.

"Because we're a team, aren't we?" He smirked, carrying her out to the hovercraft.

Effie wouldn't have resigned herself to her room as soon as she got to the underground District, had Haymitch been available. He was drying out, and she didn't see him for weeks and weeks. Peeta was gone, captured somewhere. At least she had Katniss eventually.

She grew closer to Haymitch as he emerged from that facility, sober. She did like him better sober, because of all the time he had been sober when they were at their best. He liked her better without all that makeup, because she'd kissed him without it, the first time.

One day, she slid into his room, sitting on his bed whilst he worked on some kind of plan at his desk. "And to what do I owe this pleasure?" He smirked, putting down his pencil and turning to her.

"They're saving Peeta soon." Effie commented, keeping it together as best she could. "You keep worrying about what the Capitol could do to him... Do you ever think the Capitol made me something I'm not?" She asked quietly, trying to move swiftly into the topic.

"Of course I do. Every day. I knew you before they did that to you." Haymitch said, struggling to repress everything he'd been feeling for years; anger, heartbreak, depression, love, fear. He didn't want to be without her, but she didn't want to be with him, surely.

"Snow made me do it. He said he'd kill me, which would break you... And, and, it was easier to listen to Snow. He was so close, and he smelt of blood... There was poison on the table." Effie spoke quickly, voice raising and lowering. She couldn't keep it together, but she was glad to finally tell someone. Tears streaked down her cheeks. It was so good to be somewhere the President couldn't hear her.

Haymitch stood from his desk and crouched before her, taking her small, pale hands. He looked into her watery eyes and stopped her before she could apologise. "I'm sorry. I should have taken the hint, I should have known." He said softly, smiling a little and sitting beside her, pulling her head to his chest. He kissed her forehead and held her there for some time. He felt his heart mend as she relaxed against him. "White Pickett fence in District 12 with me, once this revolution is over?" He said, smirking a little.

"I'd like that." She said, cuddling into him.

The war was a scary one, but Effie threw herself into a revolution, for Haymitch, for Katniss and for Peeta. She loved them all very dearly, and she was more than relieved when the war was over and they were safe.

She moved to District 12 immediately. Haymitch didn't start drinking, because she wasn't going to let him slip down that slope again. Both took care of Katniss, and each other. Slowly, they started opening up about everything that had happened over the years. Nearly forty, Effie expected she was past the point of having children, but Katniss and Peeta were family enough to the two of them. He told her all about his ma', his little brother, and his girl. Their graves had survived the bombing, as they lay in his garden in the Victor's Village, so Effie would often put a flower on there.

The two held a small, traditional, District 12 wedding, except Effie wore an elaborate dress she'd made on her own. They wore gold rings, a Capitol wedding tradition, because they were a team, after all.

Effie's hair grew out during the revolution, blonde like it used to be, and Haymitch stayed sober. He didn't sleep with a knife, either, because he had her. Sure, now and then, both had nightmares, but they had each other to counteract that. The two had their white Pickett fence dream, but something was missing.

About a year after the war, the two decided to adopt a war orphan. Thousands of children were without parents after the war. They visited a girl, who was not yet two years old. She had big blue eyes and blonde hair, and Haymitch could have sworn she was theirs. The girl was from the Capitol, and she wasn't quite loved by the owners of the orphanage, it was too full for love. But in their big, empty home in District 12, Effie and Haymitch - and Haymitch's stupid, loud geese - had plenty of room for their daughter: May Abernathy.

(You're the best for reading this. I'll always check back for new reviews, so even if you're reading this in a year and you wanna flame me, go ahead! Seriously, I wouldn't have continued without your support.)


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